Reputation
by Libby Sarah
Summary: An 18yearold girl Job Shadowing at PPTH catches the attention of House. Slowly, they become friends. At the same time, everyone keeps warning her to avoid the infamous House. What will happen when she finds out that the person she’s come to know and the p
1. NotSoFormal Introduction

Reputation

Summary: An 18-year-old girl Job-Shadowing at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital catches the attention of House. Slowly, they become friends, although the girl has no idea who he really is. At the same time, everyone keeps warning her to avoid the infamous House. What will happen when she finds out that the person she's come to know and the person who's supposed to make her life miserable are one-in-the-same?

Disclaimer: I don't own House the show, or character. FOX, NBC Universal, Bad Hat Harry, etc. do.

A.N.: At points in the story, House and the Ducklings (the only time, I hope, I will ever break the 4th wall) get one of their interesting cases, but I don't really go into detail. Part of the reason being, I have barely any medical knowledge whatsoever, and the writers do a much better job than I ever could. But mainly because I wanted to focus on the relationship between House and the girl in the story. Hopefully, the fic will seem real and not too clichéd. Enjoy!

**Part One: Not-So-Formal Introduction**

****

She entered the hospital somewhat apprehensively, dressed it what she hoped looked like "professional attire". Man, even the sound of that made her yawn. But if she wanted to do this right, might as well grin and bear it.

Upon further inspection, she realized the teaching hospital was big—bigger than she expected. Pushing the fear of getting lost aside, the girl approached the nurse's station and gave her name with a smile. She had a feeling something big would come out of her being here.

She had no idea…

"Twelve noon; Dr. House takes his hour lunch." House told one of the nurses at the Clinic desk. Simple enough. Cuddy wanted him to log every second of his time in the Clinic? Fine. He'd let the whole hospital know. Of course, that didn't mean he—and the hospital—couldn't "forget", occasionally, to return.

"_Hour_ lunch? How'd you manage to score that?"

Wrong again.

Wilson made his way over, eyebrows raised in feigned astonishment. House sighed.

"So, I'm not entitled to some time away from runny noses and mothers continuously whining, 'Is that normal'?"

Wilson, as always, followed when his disgruntled friend began to briskly amble away. "Sure, but an hour? Doesn't Cuddy's wrath scare you a little? She could give you even more Clinic hours." He paused. "If that's possible."

"Nah. I'll just tell her my feng shui guru said the negative tension from Clinic duty is affecting my chi."

"Except for the obvious fact that you don't _have_ a feng shui guru." The oncologist pointed out.

"I could."

Wilson smirked, then turned to depart, telling House,

"Go to lunch."

'Lunch' turned out to be more of a long walk around the grounds. The battery pack of his Game Boy needed recharging. Wilson was working—where the fun was in that, he didn't know. And the Ducklings…actually, he hadn't run into them yet today. Mostly likely, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase were doing all they could to find a so-called "interesting" case for him to try and solve.

In other words, all was most certainly not right with the world.

House glanced around the quad. Nothing particularly entertaining. Other doctors on their lunch breaks. People he didn't recognize—no doubt the families of patients. Definite no-no.

Just as he was about to admit defeat and go crawling (or limping, as the case may be) back to the Clinic, something caught House's eye.

A girl—she couldn't have been more than a teenager—sitting under a tree alone, writing. That in and of itself wasn't enough to peak his interest. But her lunch tray was. He went over to her.

"See, there are two types of people at this hospital," the doctor began without preamble. "Those who are stupid enough to purchase a meal from the cafeteria and actually consume it. And those smart enough to not even bother with the atrocious food here and bring a lunch. You, however, have an untouched sandwich, mystery vegetable, and sugar-inducing-coma dessert resting on your tray. I'm intrigued. Why buy the stuff if you have no intention of eating it?"

The speech at its end, the girl put down her pen and looked up at him. "I don't eat when I'm nervous, but it's my first day; I wanted to make a good impression."

House tilted his head slightly. "You're obviously too young to be a doctor, unless you were one of those super-smart babies like in the movies. Then I'd be more creeped out than intrigued." The girl smiled, her blue eyes catching in the sun.

"I'm from Westside High School, and I'm in the Job Shadowing program. I was supposed to be working with a Dr. Gerritts, but there was a mix-up. Seems he's on vacation for the next two weeks."

"That would make things difficult." House quipped.

"The Dean of Medicine, Dr. Cuddy, apologized and told me that, for now, I should just fill out some paperwork until she can find me something to do."

"Ah, Dr. Cuddy. You can bet she'll find something to keep you occupied." He paused, thinking aloud to himself. "Hmm. Maybe the Clinic…"

"Clinic." The girl repeated. She looked from the man to his cane, noticing it for the first time. "Are you a patient at the hospital?"

"Yeah—the Psych Ward." House put a finger to his lips. "But don't tell anyone."

She smiled again, nodding slowly. "Well, I should turn in these papers." Rising, the girl collected her things. With one last grin before leaving, she said, "I'll bring a bag of chips or something tomorrow."

House raised an eyebrow in mock interest and watched her walk back inside. Technically, he was supposed to be going back as well. Although, as long as the kid would be keeping Cuddy distracted for at least a few minutes, he didn't find it necessary to hurry.

Lo and behold, a yellow paper flew at House's leg and stuck there with the afternoon breeze. He stooped to retrieve it and skimmed it over.

"Name: Samantha Harding. Age: 18. School Attending: Westside High School…"

The paper was hers. And it was then he realized that neither of them had exchanged their names. With House, that was a given. With her, well…he found that odd. In his experience, people couldn't wait to tell him their names, their parents' names, and life stories. First the lunch thing and now this? Samantha Harding was getting more and more interesting. He liked interesting.

Paper in hand, House, too, went back inside. Once at the nurse's station, he handed it to a male nurse, and tried to sound nonchalant. "A high school kid who's Job Shadowing here dropped that."

The nurse looked from the paper to House blankly.

House sighed. "Could you return it to her, please?"

"Any reason why you're being so 'nice' today?" asked the nurse.

"I wouldn't want her tracking me down for it while I'm busy."

There was a skeptical look from the other man. "Or, while I'm in the middle of an important level." House covered.

The nurse seemed to buy that and put the paper aside. "I'll find her as soon as I get a free minute."

"Thank you." House said with exasperated sarcasm. He pivoted and came face-to-face with the Clinic. _Oh, goody_, he thought.

Okay, it's my first _House_ fic. Be kind. Hey, if I get enough good reviews, I may just post more ;) Oh, and, I know close to nothing about the actual Job Shadowing program, only what I've heard from friends. So I apologize if I messed anything up.

L.S.


	2. Warnings

**Part Two: Warnings**

"For now, I'll be giving you odds and ends to do, and you'll be able to observe different doctors and their daily routines."

"Sounds good."

"I'm really sorry about the mix-up, Samantha."

"Sam."

Cuddy smiled and reached for a small piece of paper on her desk. She handed it to Sam and continued. "I have a list of where you can start out. If you need me, I have my pager number at the top."

"Okay. Is there anything else I should know before I go?"

For a moment, Cuddy was silent, thinking it over. Then, her face sort of…fell.

"There's one man here who may give you trouble. His name is Dr. House. Try and steer clear of him, alright?"

Sam nodded. "Dr. House. Got it." She glanced at the list before remembering, "I'll try and retrace my steps to find that first form."

"If you can't, I'll get you another one."

"Thanks, Dr. Cuddy."

"Good luck."

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"Say 'ahh'."

The six-year-old House was examining was being much less annoying than her mother, who had been guessing what could possibly be wrong with her daughter since he came in.

"It could be chicken pox. She hasn't had them yet. Or mumps. No, she got her shot… Maybe she has bronchitis…"

House closed his eyes, ready to count to ten as he felt the girl's throat.

"Your child has swollen lymph nodes." He concluded, opening his eyes and standing.

"Wait. What?"

"Swollen lymph nodes." House repeated. "When a person has to fight off a cold or infection, nodes in the body swell. Has little Breanna been swallowing drainage from her nose?"

"Yes, she complained of that for a week or so; I thought that was normal with a runny nose." House shook his head to himself.

"Swallow enough of that yummy green goop and viola: the lymph nodes in your throat swell. I'll write you a prescription for Amoxicillin. Clear that right up. Goop, too, so to speak."

Hastily, he wrote the medication on his pad—giving him an excuse to have crappy handwriting—and gave it to the annoying mother. Then he was gone.

Was it really only two o'clock? The doctor sighed. Maybe he secretly wished one of his team had something—anything—interesting for him. Sometimes swollen lymph nodes were interesting. Not today, though.

"Dr. Wilson takes _his_ hour lunch," House's friend announced, appearing again. "But I think I've earned mine."

"And what fun activities do you have to keep yourself engaged in Oncology, besides the obvious?"

"I'm showing the girl from Westside around. Have you met her yet?" Wilson dug into a brown paper sack he had in tow, retrieving a can of iced tea.

"Samantha Harding?"

"Sam."

"Yeah, that's the one." Snapping his fingers, House pointed to Wilson's bag. "We had a great conversation about what she eats. Or doesn't. Either way, it was fun."

Wilson blinked at him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. We met, talked, and I returned a paper she dropped."

"No, really. What did you do?"

"I can't be nice to the new girl on her first day?" House asked, appearing 'hurt'.

"No." Replied Wilson bluntly.

"Take your lunch already. I still have another three hours to go. And the Clinic, she's a'callin'."

The doctors went their separate ways; one to patients, and one to wonder just when hell _had_ frozen over.

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Sam approached the nurse's station. "Hi. I seemed to have misplaced an important paper. By any chance, have any been brought here?"

"Name?"

"Sam Harding."

"Yeah. Dr. House returned it here. Told me to give it back to you. I was swamped with calls, but I was going to page you over the intercom system."

"That's okay. Thanks." Sam took the form and paused. "Did you say Dr. House…?"

"I didn't get it either. Listen, I'd be careful if I were you. House isn't usually one to up and do something nice, got it?"

"Right. I consider myself warned." Sam nodded, then walked toward the stairs. Man, this House guy had to be one hated individual. _Hope I don't run into _him.

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Cuddy looked up from a patient file to see her _favorite_ person in the world strolling casually up to her.

"Four o'clock. One glorious hour to go." He smiled at her.

"Tick tock." Cuddy monotoned. She closed the file, placed it on the nurses' desk, and selected another. "By the way, there's a high school student Job Shadowing here this week. She'll be observing you and your team intermittently."

"I've already met the illustrious Samantha. She's a popular one today."

Cuddy all but slammed down the file. "Oh my god. What did you do to her?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" questioned House, somewhat annoyed. "It's not like I'm Satan."

"His brother, maybe." Remarked Cuddy.

"The good-looking brother."

"Listen, you'll be nice to that girl or so help me, I'll…I'll give you more Clinic hours."

"Keep your shirt buttoned," House snarked. "I'll avoid her like the plague until she's 'shadowing' me. And then I'll be a saint."

"Uh huh. I'll make sure the three of them watch you like a hawk." The dean promised, taking both files with her as she departed.

Biting the bullet, House limped back to the Clinic to finish his day. Just what he needed: a high school kid tagging along on his daily journey around the hospital. He already had three Ducklings—he didn't need a fourth.

But it might not be so horrible. If she kept conversation to a minimum like she had at lunch, and didn't bother him with details or get in the way, more power to her.

It was going to be an interesting week.

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The next day, House went in search of Cameron earlier than usual. She was already in the lab, working on something or other. Not important.

"Have you met her yet?" He asked, poking his head in.

"Have I met whom?" Cameron adjusted the focus on her microscope.

"The Shadow."

"Sam? Not yet. She's going to be working with me in the morning, and Chase in the afternoon."

"Gee, no Foreman to follow?"

Cameron smiled. "Tomorrow."

"Ah."

"Cuddy wants you on your best behavior. If the kid's in tears by lunch, your ass is grass."

House cocked his head. "Is that an exact quote?"

The immunologist removed the slide she was examining and switched the microscope off. "Is it really that hard to be civil to someone? Will the stock market crash and the ice caps melt if you say 'good morning' to her?"

"Then she might think I'm like that all the time." House feigned worry. "And what if word spread throughout the hospital that I'd gone soft?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I gotta go. Sam will be here soon."

"Have fun with that."

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Sam arrived at the hospital slightly more at ease, and definitely comfortable. Dr. Wilson had been kind enough to inform her the day before that she didn't need to dress up for the whole week. On that note, she now wore a black Labyrinth tee over a black long sleeved shirt; khakis, and brown, off-brand Birkenstocks.

There was a female doctor waiting for her, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm Dr. Cameron. You'll be with me for the first half of the day."

"Sam. Ready when you are."

Cameron showed her around the lab, explaining a little about what her duties were. She asked to take a drop of Sam's blood and put it on a slide for her to see under the microscope.

"I'm sure you've done similar experiments in one of your science classes," began Cameron. "If we needed to test your blood for any reason, we'd take a blood sample. Follow me. There's a patient on the second floor who needs that done."

As they were en route to the elevator, Cameron turned to Sam. "Speaking of blood, I take it that since you chose this profession to Shadow, you don't get…squeamish?"

"Nope, blood's fine."

"Needles? Urine? Vomit? Anything like that?"

"I'm good." Sam shrugged. "Plus, I watch _The X-Files_ all the time."

"There may be some things you'll see here that never happened on _The X-Files_." Cameron assured her. Sam smiled.

"Joking."

"Touché." Suddenly, the doctor's pager went off. She glanced at it and sighed. "House."

"You work with him, huh?" Sam queried.

"You bet."

"Fun. I've been told to keep my distance."

"Lucky you."

"What's so bad about the guy? Does he kick puppies?"

Laughing, Cameron shook her head. "He's just a little rough around the edges." She paused. "Okay, the guy is barbed wire. He's got this shell that's impossible to crack. And a sharp tongue to boot."

Sam wet her lips, thinking. "Sounds like you know him pretty well."

"Well enough, I guess. But no one really _knows_ House. He—"

The pager went off again; Cameron glared at it. "I'll be back. Will you be alright here for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam grinned. "Have fun."

"Tons."

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Hope you guys liked it. I have a confession: I've had most of these chapters done for months, sitting in my notebook. I'm just the world's biggest procrastinator. The next chapter should be along shortly :)

L.S.


	3. If You Call That Bonding

I apologize profusely that this chapter took so long to be posted. Last weekend, my dad, cousin, and I went to Anime Central in Rosemont, IL. It was a blast! Then, a couple days ago, I came down with the flu. So here's the next installment, and I hope you enjoy. (Also, there's something Foreman says that contradicts what recently happened in a couple episodes, but since I initially wrote this before I'd seen them, I kept it intact.)

****

**Part Three: If You Call _That_ Bonding**

****

"What's the urgent urgency?" asked Cameron as she closed the door to House's office.

"I dunno," Chase replied. He sat with his legs resting on the table, waiting. "Foreman said he'd 'be right behind me' and House…isn't here yet."

"Figures." Cameron sat next to Chase, resting her chin on her hand. "So, you ready to play teacher this afternoon?"

"I think so. Might be nice to have someone following _me_ around instead of vice-versa."

"I'm here." Foreman announced, all but running to his seat. He looked around.

"Not here yet." Said Chase and Cameron in unison.

"Then why the hell did he—"

"So that you'd be prepared for class." House interrupted. He stopped at Chase's legs. "Put those down. You're not at home."

"I hope this is important. I left Sam waiting." Complained Cameron.

House turned away from the white board, marker in hand. "And, how old is she?"

"That's not what I—"

"Trust me, if she's only enough to vote, she's old enough to keep herself entertained for a few minutes."

House wrote a list of symptoms on the board and turned to his team. "Differential diagnosis, people."

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Once again, he had them scouring the ends of the hospital for information. So far, it was nothing too serious. But as of late, that could change in a heartbeat.

Rounding a corner, House stopped himself from colliding with a certain high-schooler.

"Sorry." Sam apologized, then looked up. "You."

"You, yourself." House replied. "Always walk around without looking where you're going?"

"'You can't look where you're going if you don't know where you're going'." Quoted Sam. She held up the scrap of paper she'd been so intensely focused on. "I have no idea where the Lucas Wing is."

"And why, praytell, must you reach the Lucas Wing? Do you get a prize?"

A small smile crossed the girl's face. "The doctor I was supposed to Shadow today had some kind of crisis to attend to. Dr. Cameron doesn't think she'll be able to come back for the rest of her time, but Dr. Chase might be able to squeeze me in. Told me to meet him in the Lucas Wing at two."

"And he didn't even bother to show you where it is?" House raised an eyebrow. "Chivalry is _so_ dead."

Checking his watch, House motioned for Sam to follow him. "C'mon."

As they walked, the doctor noticed her _Labyrinth_ shirt. "You've actually seen that movie?"

Sam raised her own eyebrows. "Are you saying _you_ have?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Honestly, yes. It's not really a movie everyone and their brother has watched."

"But David Bowie in tights," House protested in a teeny bopper-esque manor. "Who could resist?"

Sam laughed. "Right. So, I guess you don't want to know how many times I've seen it?"

"Obviously quite a few, if you're quoting from the movie in daily conversation."

"So now you're saying the movie's okay, but you wouldn't play it for your friends at your next party?" queried Sam evenly.

"I'm saying a movie with Muppets in it isn't always my forte." House stated.

They reached the Lucas Wing. Sam tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." House said nonchalantly. As she began to walk away, he said, "Samantha, I like _Labyrinth_. Jim Henson was a genius. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

"Sam. And how did you know my—"

"You're popular around here." House told her. "That, and I'm nosy."

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Wilson entered the Oncology break room to find his friend deeply engrossed in an episode of _General Hospital_. "Getting acquainted with the new girl, I see."

"The hot new doctor with amnesia? You better believe it!"

"Sam."

"She was wandering the halls aimlessly. Almost ran into me. Cuddy needs to give that kid more to do."

"She'd have _plenty_ to do if you hadn't made your team abandon her."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I missed the memo where I was supposed to give a damn."

Wilson folded his arms across his chest. "I saw you talking with her. She's gotten to you."

"She's vaguely captivating. She likes that movie with the Muppets."

"_Labyrinth_?"

"That's the one." House turned up the volume.

"You love that movie."

"I do not _love_ that movie." Facing the other doctor, House continued. "I agree with its philosophy: all children should be turned into goblins and kept in an Underground dimension of sorts."

"Somehow, I don't think that's what the film was trying to convey." Wilson poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip.

A commercial appeared on the screen, and House got up from his chair. "Time to check on the kids," he said.

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Chase finally made it to the Lucas Wing after an hour of checking out the laundry of their newest patient, Aaron Greenwood. He was half-convinced what they were looking for was a fungal infection. The jeans alone had to be molding after not being washed for at least a month.

The intensivist caught sight of Sam, who was focusing quite intently on a notebook she had in her lap.

Approaching her, Chase glanced down and saw a picture of what looked like those Japanese cartoons he'd heard about.

"Did you really draw that?" Chase asked.

Sam looked up, putting the cap back on her pen. "Yeah."

"It's good." The man cleared his throat. "I'm Dr. Chase; we met downstairs. Sorry I'm late. I do have to warn you that my colleagues and I are working on a case, so our time together may be cut short."

"That's fine. You guys are doctors. It's your job." Sam closed her notebook and rose from her seat. "After you."

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"You're going to hear a loud sort of banging sound," Chase told Aaron, who was currently lying in the MRI, "but try and remain still."

Sam watched from the booth as the man slid inside. "What is it you're looking for?"

"I'm not sure exactly." Pushing a few buttons, Chase said, "Hopefully I'll know when I see it. Or House will."

"Dr. House. Popular guy." Sam replied sarcastically.

"He pretty much said the same about you."

"He did?" A frown crossed the girl's features. "How does he know me?"

"Dr. Cuddy told him to treat you properly."

"Oh." Still confused, Sam pressed on. "But, I don't think I've met him yet."

Chase looked over at her with a half-smile. "Consider yourself lucky."

"So I've been told." Sam muttered. "Don't you, Dr. Cameron, and Dr. Foreman work for him?"

"Yeah."

"So, if he's as terrible as everyone says…?"

"House may be a jerk—alright, he _is_ a jerk—but he's damn near brilliant. I guess I can put up with him in order to learn a few tricks of the trade and become a better doctor. Maybe save someone's life on my own one day."

The image on the screen was complete. Chase examined it, then announced, "He's clean."

He turned to Sam again. "That's about all for today."

"Thanks, Dr. Chase." Sam gathered her things and went to the door, then stopped. She faced the doctor once more. "Is that the way he is all the time? All insults and intellect? He doesn't have any middle ground?"

Chase hesitated before responding. "Occasionally, someone or something will peak his interest. Not often, mind you. But when it does, he's slightly different. House wants to get to the bottom of the mystery."

"And when he's solved it, does he just discard the person or thing?"

"I'm not usually around for the very end." Admitted Chase. "How long whatever he takes from the experience remains with him is anybody's guess."

Nodding, Sam said, "Thanks again."

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On her way out the doors of the hospital for the day, Sam heard a familiar voice say,

"You weren't even going to say good-bye?"

She saw the man with the cane walk over. "Am I supposed to be keeping tabs on you or something?" Sam asked with a smile.

"No, but the way we're always running into each other—sometimes literally—I'm starting to suspect you're stalking me." House pretended to think it over. "Now, you don't seem like the murderous type, so that must mean you're madly in love with me. And while I'm flattered, I don't normally date jailbait."

Sam narrowed her eyebrows slightly. "I turned eighteen last week."

A slow smile spread across House's face. "Score."

"What about you? I see you here all the time, but you've already basically told me that you're not a patient. Are you visiting someone?"

"Not if I can help it. At the moment, I'm going home for the evening."

"Me, too. It's been a long and interesting day."

House cocked his head. "Having issues, are we?"

Sam closed her eyes. "No, it's just….never mind. I get irritable easily when I haven't eaten."

"What about that 'bag of chips or something'?"

The girl pulled Fritos from her purse and shook them. "I've been with doctors all day. Didn't have time to eat."

"And you didn't get any downtime?" House asked, recalling when Cameron had to run for their differential diagnosis earlier.

"About an hour. But most of that time was spent writing up observations. Then I got bored, so I started drawing."

"You draw, too?" the doctor queried. "Fascinating."

"Have a good one." Sam waved shortly before exiting the hospital.

House watched her go and reflected on the day. He and his team hadn't found the cause of their newest patient's ailment, but the antibiotics were buying them time. It made him wonder, however: should he need Foreman for whatever reason tomorrow, what would the girl be forced to do to keep herself entertained this time?

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The first thing Sam noticed when she saw Dr. Foreman the following day was that he was wearing a leather jacket as opposed to the standard lab coat. She thought that odd, but didn't call attention to it.

Walking up to the neurologist, she asked, "So, what part of Princeton Plainsboro are we visiting today?"

"We're not going to be at the hospital for awhile." Foreman had been glancing around somewhat nervously; that was quickly overshadowed by annoyance.

"Okay." Sam agreed slowly. "Where _are_ we going?"

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Thinking back to earlier that morning, Foreman still couldn't believe what was going on.

House had sought him out and told him to check out Aaron Greenwood's house for anything unusual.

"But I've got Sam Shadowing me today." Foreman had protested.

"Bring her along." House grinned.

"No way. It's already highly illegal what _I'll_ be doing—I'm not dragging _her_ into it."

"Consider it 'field training'," House told him. "Just, you know, way, way out in the field."

The diagnostician walked away, ending the conversation right there.

Which was why Foreman was leading Sam around a house that neither of them had permission to enter.

"Why are we here?" Sam studied a mounted fish on the wall and shrugged.

"Dr. House sent us to look for possible causes of what could be affecting a patient of ours." Foreman answered, putting on a pair of gloves.

"And, you couldn't just _ask_ the guy what he eats of if he has pets?"

"House's mantra is 'Everybody lies'. We took a complete medical history and asked some questions, but that didn't tell us much."

"Ah." Sam clapped her hands together. "So what are we trying to find?"

"Technically, this is my job. You understand we're not really supposed to be here, right?" Foreman faced Sam, making sure she was straight on their current position.

"You mean he didn't hand you the key and wish you 'Happy Hunting'?" the girl feigned surprise.

Shaking his head, Foreman said, "You sounded like House just then."

Sam's slightly cocky air faded. "Sorry, I'm a mite sarcastic. Runs in the family."

The doctor toyed with an extra set of gloves. "Are you sure you want to help me?"

"I don't really know how much help I'll be, but yeah."

Handing Sam the gloves, Foreman set about scavenging the kitchen; Sam took the bathroom. "Just look for anything out of the ordinary—something that could have the potential for making someone sick."

"So, does Dr. House have you do this sort of thing a lot?" asked the girl, opening the medicine cabinet.

Foreman glanced at the chemicals under the sink. "All the time. Cameron and Chase, too. But mostly, I get all the 'fun' jobs."

"Lucky you."

Sam saw Advil, shaving cream and a razor, an extra bar of soap, and Band-Aids. _Nada_.

"And have you had the pleasure of the eminent Dr. House's company?" asked Foreman, opening cupboards that merely contained dishes.

"No, but from what I've heard, I'm not missing much."

The man smirked. "What did you hear?"

"Dr. House is gifted, but an arrogant jerk. If he's doing something nice, there's an ulterior motive. He's an utter mystery, and sharp as glass." Sam paused, mid-shower check. "Oh, and he's beyond sarcastic. I think that about covers it."

"Sounds like you got the full work up. Usually someone has to actually be in the room with the guy to find all that out." Foreman paused as well. "Albeit for three seconds."

"The strange thing is, for all the negative things I've heard about him, there's been some…I guess you could say 'positive'." Sam admitted. "Dr. House is a genius, and you guys learn from him. Apparently, he has a knack for saving people's lives."

Foreman appeared from the kitchen. "What do you think of him?"

"I told you, I haven't met him yet."

"Based on what you've heard so far."

Sam was silent for a moment, and Foreman wondered if she was thinking, or if she wasn't going to answer. But finally she said, "I would never want to be one of his 'cases'."

"Fatally ill?" Queried the doctor. "Neither would I."

"No," Sam shook her head. "Someone he's interested in for all of the blink of an eye before he solves their mystery, and suddenly it's over."

Foreman didn't know how to respond. What she had said was true, to some extent. It was how House operated. Never was the process pretty, or fair, but it was the just way House was.

Foreman was caught off guard when Sam inquired, "What about you?"

He took his time with his answer as well. "He does what he wants—says what he wants—and gets away with it. Most of the time. And he's so damn stubborn, thinking he's always right."

"And is he?"

Sighing, Foreman replied, "More often than not."

He turned and headed back to the kitchen, motioning for Sam to do the same. "You can check the pantry while I get the fridge."

They went to their respective food receptacles, and Foreman smiled. "Guy wouldn't mind if I made a sandwich."

He pulled bread, turkey, and mustard from the refrigerator, then looked up at Sam. "Do you want anything?"

To which the teenager laughed. "I draw the line at eating the food of the guy whose house I have illegally entered. But knock yourself out."

Foreman shrugged and began putting together his snack. Sam finished looking through the pantry. "All the expiration dates are good, anything opened has been sealed, and it appears that Mr. Greenwood likes Tomato-flavored Ramen noodles." She closed the pantry door. "I'm a Creamy Chicken girl, myself." Looking around, Sam asked, "Should I check the living room?"

"Yes, please. I'll join you in a moment."

As Sam went, Foreman put the sandwich fixings back in the fridge. A second before he closed the door, he paused. There, sitting on the top left shelf, was a clue.

Grabbing it, he announced, "Sam, we need to get back to the hospital _now_."


	4. Inevitable BlowOut

I have to apologize profusely for not updating sooner. I've been super busy and... small voice I'm lazy. Thank you guys for all your great reviews and for putting up with me. And now, without further adieu...

**Chapter Four: Inevitable Blow-Out**

After Dr. Foreman brought Sam back to Princeton Plainsboro, he told her their portion of the day would most likely be at its end, and rushed off with something from Aaron Greenwood's fridge. The only thing she could think of to do was find Dr. Cuddy and, after explaining the situation, ask what she should do next.

"I'm sorry about the lack of Shadowing you've done," Cuddy apologized. "Once Dr. House has a case, he keeps his team pretty busy. That's actually the reason I assigned you to them. I thought you'd get a real experience out of it. I guess that plan backfired, huh?"

"I've actually learned a few things," said Sam. "And I have a lot to write about for my observation paper."

"That's great." Cuddy looked up at the clock on the wall. "Well, if you want, you can get something to eat…"

"Actually, if there's anything else available right now, I'd be happy to do it." Sam put a hand to her head. "I've been feeling sort of weird since this morning, and usually I snap out of it when I have something to keep me occupied."

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Cuddy, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam nodded.

Cuddy didn't look altogether convinced, but she checked the schedule on her desk and said, "Well, there's…Nurse Bentz on the third floor who will be doing a few IV's, if that's something you'd be interested in observing."

"Yes. Thank you." Sam grabbed her purse from the floor, rose from her seat, and made her way out of Cuddy's office.

There was a lot of activity on the third floor when Sam approached. She could see nurses scurrying and bringing with them supplies and machines.

Sam attempted to stay out of the way as she advanced toward Room 313, but she saw a familiar face among the chaos.

At almost the same time, House glanced up and saw her. Each wondered what the other was doing there.

Foreman appeared as well, looking semi-alarmed.

"House, he's getting worse." The neurologist announced.

Sam's face fell. She wasn't sure she heard right. Dr. Foreman didn't say 'House'. There was just no way…

But the man standing before her wasn't doing a thing to deny it.

"Dr. …House?" Sam asked, her voice barely audible. "The same Dr. House that hates the world but shares his genius with it? The one everyone at this hospital has warned me about?"

"Guilty as charged." House answered just as softly.

Sam's head pounded as her voice rose. "All the times we ran into each other, you never once told me who you were! You knew all about me, but never bothered to volunteer any information about yourself!"

"You never asked." The doctor saw the girl's sharp intake of breath; his blasé response stung her deeply.

"I get it now." Sam no longer noticed the commotion happening around her, nor did she remember there was a dying man in the room next to her. "I was just one of your 'cases'. Oh, sure, I was interesting for awhile – until you got whatever you needed out of me."

Sam paused, taking an almost shuddering breath. "Was it worth it? Was I as much fun to experiment on as previous idiots who didn't know they were being laughed at behind closed doors?"

The tirade ended, and for the first time in as long as House could remember, he was utterly speechless. It wasn't all true, what she had said. The "cases" that interested him had everything to do with those who were beyond strangely ill or dying. Never had he been so engrossed by the average, healthy person. Not, of course, that this would be the time to tell her that.

Wilson had materialized a few minutes before, but in all the disarray, House only now noticed him. He turned slightly to his friend, whose face held a mixture of sympathy and 'look-what-you've-gotten-yourself-into-now'.

Finally, Sam let a tear fall, and she haphazardly wiped it away. "So you have nothing to say. Figures." A machine in the room made a series of beeping noises. "You'd better save your patient, Dr. House, so you can drop him faster than you did me."

Sam took off down the hall as House watched. Foreman, while empathetic, was done being patient. "House?" he said with urgency in his voice.

"Give him ofloxacin," House replied, then began walking in the direction the girl had gone.

"Where are you going?" asked Wilson, knowing full-well what the answer was.

"I'm going to find her and talk to her," began House. "She couldn't have gone far."

The oncologist raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure she could out-run _you_."

House sighed. "She hasn't been eating the past couple of days; she's worn out."

Off he went. Wilson watched him go, not envying his friend in the least.

Making his way around the hospital, House started to get a little indignant. Why should he care if some silly teenager was mad at him? It's not as if he flat-out lied to her. He didn't owe her anything. She wasn't any different than anyone else who walked through those front doors.

But the other voice – it may have been his conscious if he didn't swear he'd buried the son of a bitch long ago – looked at the situation in a new way entirely: _She_ didn't approach _him_. If he hadn't gone over to her that day and given her his input, Sam would have went on her merry way and finished her week without incident. Sure, Cuddy probably still would have assigned Sam to the Ducklings, but House most likely would have avoided her. Per usual.

The doctor took a second to think of all the places the girl could have run off to. Since she was still unfamiliar with the whole of the hospital, he doubted she would wander aimlessly, even in her state. Then an unpleasant thought struck him: what if she made her way to the Clinic?

Sucking it up, House started in that direction. Rounding a corner to a back hallway, his foot ran into something. Looking down, House allowed a twinge of panic to course through him.

Sam was face-down on the ground, utterly still. As carefully as he could without also falling, House lowered himself to the floor and checked for a pulse. Weak, but there. He shook her faintly. "Samantha."

No response.

"Samantha!" the doctor's voice rose in desperation.

She was clammy and warm to the touch, but luckily, she was still breathing. Trying again, House finally called, "Sam!"

The girl moaned gently. It was something.

House sighed, relieved. "Thatta girl."

Glancing around as he slowly turned Sam over, House yelled, "Can I get a little help over here!"


End file.
